


Lost in the blood

by deerna



Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: Blackwatch Era, Brotherly Bonding, Family Angst, Family Issues, Gen, Hinted Genji/Mercy, Hinted Genji/Reaper, Hinted sexual fantasy, Mentioned Jesse McCree, Mentioned Tekhartha Mondatta, Mentioned Tekhartha Zenyatta, Minor Jesse McCree/Genji Shimada, Overwatch Recall, Pre-Canon, slight body horror
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-02
Updated: 2019-03-02
Packaged: 2019-11-08 06:46:52
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,187
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17976383
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/deerna/pseuds/deerna
Summary: Family is a concept unfamiliar to Genji. He eventually learns what it means, and he wants Hanzo to have the same thing he has.Genji cleans and meditates and cooks for himself. He wonders about these omnics who were born without mothers, without fathers, without siblings. They formed their own families, unashamed of their need of being together.





	Lost in the blood

**Author's Note:**

> Questa storia partecipa alla Nona Edizione del COWT di [LandeDiFandom](https://www.landedifandom.net/) per la M2 della terza settimana, con il seguente prompt: Tutte le famiglie felici si somigliano. (Lev Tolstoj, Anna Karenina)

I.

Genji’s first memory is the garden, green and white and blue and pink. He walks on the white pebbles towards the pond, curious about the strange flashes he can see just below the surface—too focused on them to look at his own feet. He trips on something and falls on his front; his knees sting and his hand burns. Everything is wet near the lip of the pond. Genji’s clothes are soaked and uncomfortable. He cries, confused and scared.

Someone comes running toward him, quick steps making crumbly noises against the gravel. Hanzo kneels next to him, his young face pinched with worry, eyes wide and panicked as they flit around. He dries Genji’s eyes with the sleeve of his robe, asks him if he’s okay, looks at his scratched skin. He pulls him upright and clutches him to his chest, almost too tight.

They both have tutors and teachers to guide them in their education, but Hanzo helps him anyway, whenever he asks. He celebrates with him when he makes it, tries to comfort him when he fails or falls behind. They train together, eat together, grow together.

Mother died when he was too young to remember. Father never has time for him, but he praises him whenever Genji presents him with his hard won results. He doesn’t notice when Father dismisses his brother’s contribute to his success; he’s too young, too loved. He collects the small trinkets his father gifts him and he’s content. He just wants to make his father proud.

His family business was never his business.

II.

Blackwatch is a well oiled machine and Genji is one of its cogs. He doesn’t have to think, he doesn’t have to wonder, he doesn't have to feel. They point him towards a target and he complies. It’s a job. He’s paying a debt. It doesn’t get any harder. It’s pain. Anger.

He retires for the night and his brain stutters in the silence. His brother slowly turned from ally to enemy. Their father died. Genji started working with the Shimada clan’s enemies a few days later. His taste buds aren’t sensitive as they used to be. It’s been years since he had sex.

The agents of Blackwatch don’t have ties with the outside world so they stick together, fraternization laws be damned. Everyone is afraid of the angry cyborg who stalks the halls when he can’t get rest. He doesn’t sleep. He doesn’t eat. He goes on missions and comes back covered in blood and grime. The shower stalls fall silent when he walks in to clean up.

His guts taste like foam and dish cleaner. Doctor Ziegler is a beautiful woman; her slim hands slip around his crotch and he doesn’t feel anything. The thin silicon gloves used to make appearances in his bedroom, a lifetime ago. The nerves get connected, and Genji screams.

McCree’s mouth closes around the tip of one of those disgusting cigars of his, the drawl of his accent so hard to understand sometimes. Genji pictures him on his knees, on his back, on all four. He’s obeying the bite of command in Reyes’ voice, gets to cover, kills an enemy agent. His commander’s hand is warm on his neck as it squeezes the life out of him, eyes shining in the dark.

Morning comes, Genji goes on missions, and then he comes back again to face his demons, the shell of an existence he’s not sure ever existed. He pieces his memories back again. He misses Hanzo, and he regrets his family wrongdoings.

Hanzo couldn’t see his reasons. His father broke him, used his brother’s need for approval to obtain a perfect soldier for his future empire. The emperor died. Genji couldn’t kill his son.

He flees in the dark and doesn’t look back.

III.

The omnics share every moment of their day. They clean together, they pray together, they cook together for Genji, who needs actual food other than sunlight. They play and sing and mourn together, while Zenyatta reads his scrolls at the shrine looking out at the mountains.

Genji followed the Shambali back to Nepal because Zenyatta isn’t one of them, not really. There’s something about his relationship with the others that strikes Genji as odd and familiar at the same time. He looks like Mondatta. They’re brothers.

Mondatta tries to help, Zenyatta refuses, lightly mocking his methods even as he instructed the other monks about the goodness of his truths. Genji cleans and meditates and cooks for himself. He wonders about these omnics who were born without mothers, without fathers, without siblings. They formed their own families, unashamed of their need of being together.

They picked their siblings so they could bicker with them, admiring them from afar.

IV.

He wakes up in the middle of the night, crawls out of bed without waking Jesse up and goes to the roof. He watches the sun come up. The water turns purple and pink and green and then deep blue, like the skies above. He feels like throwing up. The salty air dries his lips out.

Ten years, in the daylight, for the first time. Genji cleans the blood out of his memories. He forgets the pain, the fear, the sadness. The anger. He sees Hanzo kneeling in the spot where Genji almost bled out, ready to die, and despairs. He forgave him ages ago.

Genji wants Hanzo on their team. His master knows why, and Jesse understands, too. Regret flows in their words even as they don’t speak of the past—but Genji was there. He remembers. He’s learned. He smiles at both of them in the mess hall.

The Overwatch Recall team walks on the landing pad as one. Genji feels them watching his back, his sensors track their position as they leave him a little space to greet his brother properly. They keep close though, like a honor guard. They have Genji’s back, even when he doesn’t need it.

Hanzo looks different from that night; he looks tired but eager, resigned but hopeful. He cut the silver from his hair; he ditched his traditional kyudo gi for a more practical windbreaker. He’s awfully gaunt and pale, thinner than Genji remembers him, but there’s a thin smile on his face.

He doesn’t look at Genji as he walks down the ramp, a big bag slung over one shoulder and a guitar case in his other hand. His dragon flickers deep in his soul. Genji says something, but he can’t hear his own words. He forgets to take the faceplate off. The rest of the team does a first round of introductions. Genji can’t breathe.

Hanzo puts his things away in his new closet, a heavy silence between them, as Genji just stands on the other side of the room. They speak up at the same time: _I missed you. I’m glad we’re meeting again. I’m so sorry._ There are questions in between the lines. The answers can wait.

They clutch at each other almost too tightly, the habit of embracing lost in the blood.

Genji closes his eyes, and starts over. 

**Author's Note:**

> Check me out on [twitter](https://twitter.com/somewhatclear) and [dreamwidth](https://somewhatclear.dreamwidth.org).


End file.
